


The One You're With

by Topaz_Eyes



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Crossover, M/M, Plot What Plot, Porn Battle, Prompt Fic, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-16
Updated: 2008-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-03 14:09:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Topaz_Eyes/pseuds/Topaz_Eyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP after Jack returns from "Last Of The Time Lords."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One You're With

**Author's Note:**

> This is the full-length version of the story ["The One You're With"](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/344051.html?thread=16161779#t16161779) written for the [Porn Battle V Challenge](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/344051.html) in [](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/profile)[**oxoniensis**](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/)' LJ.

Ianto stood in Jack's office by the coat tree, watching Jack at his desk. The office was darkened, save for one lamp on the desk that cast a singular cone of light on the wood surface. Jack sat in his chair, in the shadow, a glass of Scotch in his hand. He wasn't drinking it though; he was simply turning the glass, watching the light reflect off the dark gold liquid, as if it were a flame.

Jack was brooding again, something he did often now that he had returned from wherever it was he'd gone. He steadfastly refused to talk about it; Ianto wanted to know, but did not have the courage to ask why. Sometimes it was better he didn't.

"Is there anything else, sir?"

Jack startled, but didn't look up from his reverie at his desk. "No. No--thanks, Ianto."

"Right. Then I'll be going now. Good night."

Jack didn't answer. Ianto turned on his heel to leave. He was just at the threshold of the office when Jack called out.

"Ianto--wait."

Ianto stopped. There was something not quite right in Jack's voice. Something that prickled the hair at the back of his neck--but he turned obediently anyway. "Yes, sir?"

Jack rose, set the glass down, and covered the distance in three strides until he was standing directly in front of Ianto. Meeting Jack's gaze, Ianto shivered at the smoldering desire in his stare; and something else, deep and dark and yearning, that did not seem directed at him, but rather somewhere else, somewhere distant.

Ianto hesitated, but Jack reached out and caressed Ianto's jaw with his thumb, trailing along his chin. When Jack laid his palm on his cheek, Ianto closed his eyes, leaning into the touch and marveling at the uncharacteristic tenderness of it. In all the previous times they'd been together, Jack had been many things, but never tender like this.

When he opened his eyes again, Jack was still staring down at him, his lips full and soft. "Come," Jack murmured, taking Ianto's hand, and he drew him back into the office, back beside the desk in the semi-darkness.

Ianto hardened instantly at Jack's low command. Gods help him, but he could never, ever deny Jack anything. Like now: Jack leaning down to kiss him, Jack's hands roaming all over him, Jack's mouth claiming his with a softness Ianto didn't recognize, but one he couldn't get enough of. Ianto arched up against him, his own hands slipping around Jack's shoulders, down his back to his waist. Their tongues explored, caressing, their fingers searching and mapping, and Ianto grew dizzy with sensation--

Jack drew back suddenly, panting harshly, and Ianto shivered again at the loss of Jack's heat.

"Turn around," he whispered. "Turn around, and whatever you do, don't look back."

Ianto nodded shakily and did so, and Jack's hands were on him again, thumbs rubbing his nipples through his shirt, his hips grinding into Ianto's arse. Ianto moaned, feeling Jack's erection against his thigh. Then Jack's hands reached around his hips, unbuckled Ianto's belt, and undid his fly. Ianto thrust against Jack's palm, his groin already aching with need.

"Oh, fuck," Ianto breathed.

Jack slid Ianto's trousers and pants down over his hips, letting them drop to the floor. "Bend over the desk," he said, his lips brushing Ianto's ear.

Ianto leaned over obediently, eagerly, pushing pens and resting his elbows on top of some papers. He heard a soft noise behind him; he wanted to look, but remembered Jack's order. The next thing he knew, he felt warm fingers gently prying apart his arse cheeks.

Ianto groaned reflexively at the touch of a warm, wet tongue behind his balls. He thrust against the desk as that tongue slowly, slowly licked its way up his crack until it flicked against his puckered hole. Ianto heard himself keening and felt himself thrusting back, needing that warmth inside. He gasped again when Jack obliged him, his tongue pushing in and out gently for several moments, Jack's fingers massaging his cheeks.

Ianto thought he'd come right there with Jack tongue-fucking him, but then Jack suddenly withdrew. Ianto jumped at the cold air hitting his crack, whimpering at the loss of warm wet heat, before Jack released his arse cheeks. He heard Jack rise and stand, then the whish of a zipper and the soft thud of clothes against the floor. The next thing he knew, Jack was grabbing his hips and grinding his cock against his arse.

Gods, Ianto had missed the feeling of Jack's cock inside him, of Jack pushing and thrusting and swearing until they both screamed with release. Instead, Jack didn't enter him at all--he only rubbed his cock against him, thrusting sensuously. Ianto turned his head, dumbfounded.

Jack turned his head back, gently but firmly. "I said don't turn around," he grunted between pants.

Ianto nodded, stunned. But it didn't matter; Jack was drawing him up straight, pulling him back against his chest, and he was kissing and nipping the nape of Ianto's neck, while one hand held fast to his hip and his other hand roamed over his belly. Ianto was so hard it hurt; he reached for the hand gripping his hip, trying to slide it towards his groin. Thrusting forward, Jack offered no resistance, so Ianto guided Jack's hand down into his hair, brushing his shaft. He curled Jack's fingers around his cock and pulled, setting a rhythm that Jack followed.

Part of Ianto, that wasn't burning up with lust, wondered why Jack was being so gentle, even shy, around him. It wasn't as if Jack did not know every inch of his body already. Another, deeper part of him wondered if Jack wasn't thinking--no, he wasn't going there. Not now, not with Jack fisting him just the way Ianto liked, not with Jack's cock rubbing and thrusting against his cheeks, not with Jack's tongue laving its way around his ear, not with Jack's scent flooding his nose.

Jack's rhythm suddenly changed, erratic and hard against his backside, and Ianto moaned, and Jack groaned, and Jack's hand gripped Ianto's cock and jerked harder, faster. Ianto knew Jack was close, and he was rapidly approaching orgasm too, feeling his balls tighten, when Jack went still, right at the cusp.

"Doctor," he whispered into Ianto's ear.

Then Jack was shuddering and coming, hard and fast, and Ianto felt the wet, warm stickiness against his skin. That did it for him--the pressure in his own groin exploded, and he felt himself splinter into a million little pieces as he came in Jack's fist.

Absolutely spent, Ianto's knees weakened, and he caught the edge of Jack's desk, clutching it for support. Jack still held onto him, following him down, and they leaned against the desk for several moments, trying to soothe burning lungs and racing hearts. Then, to Ianto's surprise, Jack pressed his face into the back of Ianto's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured against Ianto's skin.

Through the drying sweat on his body, Ianto felt a new wetness, and he froze, suddenly remembering what Jack had called out. He felt Jack rub his face on his shoulder, the brush of Jack's lips, then the loss of heat as Jack drew back completely. Ianto squeezed his eyes shut, gripping the desk so hard he could almost feel his imprints in the wood. He heard Jack pull up and fasten his trousers and clear his throat.

"Ianto," Jack said. Ianto flinched at the naked guilt and regret in his voice, but he did not look back. After a moment, Jack sighed, full of world-weary sorrow; Ianto heard his soft footfalls receding towards the door. Only after the door clicked shut, did Ianto strike out and knock over the glass of Scotch.

"Fuck you too, Captain Jack Harness," he whispered through impotent tears to the empty room. "Fuck you too."


End file.
